


a shadow on me

by pixieface



Series: through the lonely years [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Burns, Knifeplay, M/M, Masturbation, Other, Self-Harm, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 12:29:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10697040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixieface/pseuds/pixieface
Summary: Hanzo, far from home, imagines his brother.(alternate summary: angst and jerkin' it.)





	a shadow on me

**Author's Note:**

> So a couple of weeks ago, I had an idea for a [Shimadacest longfic](https://deaddovedonotbloop.tumblr.com/post/159274029617/had-a-shimadacest-idea-last-night-that-i-will). I'm probably never going to write the whole thing, but it stuck with me, and I figured I could manage a few scenes from it. This is the first of them. They won't all be this angsty, but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Edit 4/28: had an idea for a titling theme for the series and it was gonna bother me if this one didn't fit the theme, so _the duality of man_ is now _a shadow on me_. Sorry for any confusion this causes.

He never knew which brother he was going to get. 

Genji was dead, he knew - he’d died by Hanzo’s hand, of course he knew - and so, of course, it wasn’t really Genji, either of them. Still, they were with Hanzo, his only companion in this solitary life he had chosen after his brother’s death (his brother’s murder, whispered the hurt one, the one with the voice that slurred and gurgled after Hanzo had broken his jaw). And one could turn to the other in an instant. 

Still, he welcomed their voices when they came. Not that he could control them, really - not with any of the techniques or meditations he used to keep his dragons bound to his skin, and the sensations of the body that sometimes kept them quiet were passing. But it was good to hear the voice of someone who knew everything about him when he was alone. Someone who cared what happened, even if for the hurt one, that care was so he would live long enough to keep suffering. 

There were times, though, when it would be best for his brother not to interrupt, and the final negotiations for a new contract was one of them. That was the time when the Genji who hated him liked to speak, to tell him that he hadn’t changed, that he was still a killer, that he’d killed his honor when he killed his brother and leaving the Shimada clan afterwards meant nothing. Over the years, Hanzo had found one way that quieted him, if only for a handful of hours. He’d discovered by accident that his hurting brother liked to see him in pain, and so he kept a knife for just this occasion.

He had given up the sword the very night he’d used it to cut into Genji, unleashing the power of their family heritage on him. But there were times when a blade was still useful. Clients didn’t always want a long-distance kill, after all. They paid more for a personal touch. 

This particular knife had been a gift from a client - a ceramic blade with a carbon fiber handle, specially made without the metal elements used in commercially available knives. When folded, the material resisted electronic detection. It was brittle and not meant to go through bone, but Hanzo found its keen edge - which stayed sharper for longer than a traditional blade - served his purposes very well, even if those purposes weren’t exactly what the client expected. 

“ _This again, Hanzo?_ ” his brother’s voice, slurred and mushy, murmured. “ _It makes me angry that you want me to be quiet, you know. But I’m not surprised. You never did want me to have my own voice._ ”

“You still don’t,” Hanzo snapped - quietly, at least. He tried not to respond to them out loud, but sometimes he couldn’t help it. “You’re not really Genji - you’re just my own mind, punishing itself.”

His brother laughed - a wet gurgling sound that raised the hairs on the back of Hanzo’s neck. “ _That’s even better, you know - that you want to hurt like this. Hurt yourself for me, anija. Maybe I’ll stay quiet for you if you do._ ”

He hated to obey this ghost of his brother’s voice, but it was what he had planned - why he’d come into the bathroom, laid down in the tub, where any blood could be washed away easily. The ritual was well-worn by now. He raised the blade to his chest and, with the slightest pressure, parted the skin, following the same path that a few thin scars marked - shoulder to abdomen, right side to left. It had been awkward, the first few times, using his non-dominant hand. One line wobbled from his unsteady control. But this punishment was for Genji, so he followed the path he’d cut into his brother as best he could - it was mirrored, because he couldn’t reach his back, after all.

The blade was sharp enough that all he felt at first was pressure. By the time he’d finished his cut, the top had started to burn, dripping blood as it was exposed to the air. When he set the blade aside, the long cut throbbed with a bright pain that cleared his mind and focused his senses. Hanzo breathed through it. The tub was cold, the air in the bathroom was cold, his blood cooled quickly as it rolled down his side. The wound radiated heat - it was the warmest place on his body.

“ _That’s starting to get old, Hanzo,_ ” Genji said. The cold breeze from the vent almost felt like his breath over Hanzo’s shoulder. “ _That’s not even where you hurt me. Such a small pain. Pathetic. You can’t even do proper penance._ ”

Hanzo gritted his teeth. He knew. With one hand, he found the top of the cut and spread it apart, hissing quietly. The pain grew. With the other, he viciously pinched his side, low on his hip, and let himself feel the deep ache, how it contrasted with the burning pain of his chest.

Not enough to silence Genji, it seemed. “ _Where was this failure of will when I needed it?_ ” that inner voice asked. “ _Your determination to do something right doesn’t seem nearly as strong as your sense of duty._ ”

“You’d think you want me to die,” Hanzo hissed at him.

“ _No, of course not, anija._ ” The title was always given that vicious twist in this Genji’s voice. “ _I want you to live, and I want you to know pain every day. Real pain, not this surface silliness. We both had worse in sword lessons._ ”

That was true. Both the Shimada brothers had received many lessons in pain, giving and receiving. Genji had been satisfied with just this before, but before, Hanzo had already been wracked with guilt when he took the blade to himself. This pain was just utilitarian. It served no higher purpose, didn’t connect him to the ghost of his brother who was really himself. And Genji wouldn’t like that. He had to go farther this time.

Hanzo picked up the blade again and sat up. No, just cutting wouldn’t suffice. He rinsed the blade and wiped it mostly dry, then thought for a moment. He had planned to have a smoke after this to calm himself before his meeting - the cigarettes and lighter were already within reach. 

The ceramic of the blade wouldn’t hold heat quite as well as a metal one would, but the edge wouldn’t warp with open flame either. And ‘not as well’ would work for his purposes, as long as he worked quickly.

As he held the lighter to one side of the knife, Genji laughed that bubbling rough laugh again. “ _Oh, so you do have some creativity in you after all, Hanzo. Or maybe not - electricity burns, doesn’t it? You burned me._ ”

Hanzo ignored him again. The lighter was warm in his hand when he let the flame go out and dropped it carelessly beside him. Quickly, he pressed the flat of the knife against himself, below the cut.

His mouth dropped open with the pain and he gulped in air, quickly. He had thought the cut burned, kept him warm, but it was nothing compared to this. He kept the ceramic pressed to himself for one moment, perhaps two, before he had to pull it away. Something steamed against the surface of the blade, and through the pain, he realized it was the blood that had dripped from the cut. 

Hanzo looked down. It wasn’t as bad as he feared, but the flesh was red and angry, beginning to swell already. It would blister, he thought. He’d have to be careful not to hit it against anything on this job. He wanted to lay back down, to press it against the cool material of the tub in hopes it would be soothed, but it would just aggravate the injury, he knew. Still, he had to touch it.

He felt around the edges haphazardly, taking deep breaths through his nose. When he scraped the worst of the burn with one ragged nail, he shuddered. The pain radiated out like a slap. He could feel his pulse in the throbbing of the burn, begging for attention. He leaned backwards and turned his eyes towards the featureless ceiling of the bathroom. 

The hurt didn’t subside, despite his careful breathing. The skin seemed to get more tender with every breath that pulled it tighter across his ribs. Hanzo’s hand moved lower down his side, touching himself lightly, indiscriminately, trying to soothe himself against the pain. He was almost surprised when he brushed past his cock to discover it was half-hard, and without much conscious thought, he closed his hand around it.

His mouth opened again and he couldn’t quite help the noise he made. His arm brushed the burn as he stroked himself. He would have thought it would be too distracting, that hardening all the way like this would be impossible. Instead, it seemed like every throb and touch made him harder, made his breath come faster and his heart pound. 

Hanzo opened his eyes, unsure when he’d let them slide shut. The cut he’d made was still sluggishly bleeding, but he’d almost forgotten about it, between the burn and the sudden arousal. He watched his own hand toy slowly with his foreskin, teasing himself and lightly squeezing the head. He was panting now, and getting warmer, despite the chill in the room. 

“ _How filthy you are, Hanzo_ ,” Genji told him, in that mush-mouthed voice. “ _This is a new low for you, isn’t it? Go on. At least it’s interesting._ ”

His brother’s voice almost stopped the motion of his hand, but Hanzo reminded himself that it wasn’t like Genji was truly there. He closed his eyes again, stroking himself faster, as if he could drown out a voice that existed nowhere but his own mind. Still, he could almost see Genji’s broken-jawed bleeding smile looming over him, feel his cold dead breath on his face. He reached for the burn with his free hand, this time scraping his nails across it deliberately, hoping that the sudden shriek of sharp pain would quiet his ghosts. 

Genji said nothing new - all Hanzo could hear was his own breathing, heavy from arousal and hurt. That was good enough. He rolled his head against the back wall of the tub, relishing in this sudden new feeling - the contrast of his rough hand stroking himself with the hot pain on his chest, how the two sensations spiraled together to overwhelm him in a way that pleasure alone never had. His free hand moved from the burn to a nipple, and he twisted it viciously in a way he’d never dared to before. They’d never been an area he’d paid much attention to in the past, but clearly he’d been doing the wrong things. 

The slide of his hand around his cock grew slicker. Hanzo knew he was close - he wanted to draw this out, this new pleasure-pain experience he’d never known he’d enjoy, but he had to hurry. He had a client meeting. He could feel the rush of impending orgasm in the heat in his face, in the tightening of the muscles of his pelvis and his core, in the prickle of sweat between his shoulderblades despite the chill of the cheap motel bathroom. He braced for it, squeezing his eyes shut again, gasping for air, and almost wept when it didn’t come. He squeezed himself harder, moved faster, but climax seemed to be just out of his reach.

“ _Oh, Hanzo_ ,” sighed Genji’s voice - but not the broken-mouthed hateful Genji who’d spoken to him before. This was his brother before he’d found out the hurt Hanzo was capable of inflicting. “ _You’ve got to be nicer to yourself. Slow down. Take a deep breath. Let it come._ ”

Hanzo did weep, then, just a few hot tears as he opened his mouth for a shaky breath. His grip had loosened when Genji spoke - startlement or reflex - but his hand kept moving. And Genji had been right. That was enough. His cock pulsed in his hand, and the wounds he’d given himself pulsed with it. His orgasm swept over him like a wave at high tide, cresting over his head and making his nerves sing with pain and pleasure.

“ _There, see?_ ” Genji said. “ _That wasn’t so hard, was it? Or - well, I can see that it was._ ” He laughed, the same snide chuckle Hanzo had always heard after a dirty joke. “ _You’ve got to listen to your body. You always pushed yourself so hard. You’re free from the clan now. Enjoy yourself a little._ ”

As the immediate pleasure of his orgasm faded, Hanzo ignored him in favor of sitting up slowly. He was a mess, and he had to clean up before his meeting. The appearance of the Genji that encouraged him to indulge meant that he’d be free of the darker version of his brother during negotiations. As that had been the goal of this exercise originally, he would be satisfied.

Even if he knew the reason his bleeding brother had left was because he knew it would be crueller to leave him with the lie that his brother still loved him.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr (18+)](http://deaddovedonotbloop.tumblr.com)


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